


we've got galaxies in our veins, baby

by lavab0y



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Gay, Ignore this, M/M, malum, sorry - Freeform, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavab0y/pseuds/lavab0y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calum is five and he thinks he can fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we've got galaxies in our veins, baby

**Author's Note:**

> based on the reply on this post i got a bit carried away sorry about that http://queercoffeeshop.tumblr.com/post/93836311629/describe-each-other-malum-seems-like-the-type

Calum is five and he thinks he can fly.

 

His sister Mali, can, kind of - she does gymnastics and seeing her tumble through the air he thinks that maybe she’s part bird. He thinks of trying it himself, how hard can it be? He has a blanket tied around his neck and he’s standing on the edge of the porch, his knees bent and poised to jump, until he spots him.

 

The boy is small, smaller than him, with blondish brown hair that falls a bit into his eyes and a wide smile on his face as he stares up at his parents, one hand in each of theirs. Calum wonders if he can fly, too.

 

//

 

Calum is ten and he knows he can’t fly.

 

Mali was scolded for all the times Calum was found trying to jump off objects, his arms outstretched, ready for the air rushing past his limbs.

 

Calum knows he can’t fly now, but he has someone who makes him feel like he can. The boy he saw once when he was five is now his friend, and his name is Michael. He and Michael are in fact best friends; Michael told him so last week, both of their heads under the covers as they whispered quietly back and forth while they were supposed to be sleeping.

 

“Cal,” Michael had whispered.

 

“Yeah, Mikey?”

 

“You’re my best friend,” Michael had said, his voice a little shaky on the word “best” but strong on “friend” and something warm had bloomed in Calum’s belly and spread to his fingertips.

 

“Me too.”

 

//

 

Calum is fifteen and he wants to fly.

 

Or at least that’s what Mali had described it as; kissing someone, that is. Calum wants that. He wonders if Michael has kissed anyone, and feels an inexplicable jab of jealousy at the thought, but pushes it aside. He can’t afford to think about that.

 

Michael comes over later for their weekly sleepovers, and Calum is feeling sated from a wank session but still sad, the sick feeling in his stomach still there. Michael picks up on it, like he always does, but he knows when to ignore it. They play FIFA and Blink and just lay on Calum’s bed, staring at the ceiling and not saying anything, and it’s not awkward. It’s just them. Calum’s just appreciating the silence when Michael speaks up. “So what’s wrong with you?”

 

Calum’s hackles raise, because he knows what’s wrong, but if he says it, it makes it real; if he says it he has to address it and he’s _scared._ Michael’s voice comes softer now, barely more than a whisper, “Cal, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

 

And Calum wasn’t going to say it, but he can never deny Michael, even when he’s not outright asking - “Have you kissed anyone?” Michael’s silent for one, two, three beats, and Calum doesn’t think he’s going to answer when he speaks.

 

“No. But I want to,” the temperature has just risen ten degrees, Calum swears, and Michael’s staring at him now, he can feel the weight of it on the side of his face. “Do you wanna-”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you wanna kiss me?” Calum’s voice breaks on the word “kiss” and dies on the “me”, and Michael doesn’t answer, just turns, scoots into Calum’s personal space and presses all of himself into Calum, his lips faltering and catching on Calum’s chin, then righting themselves, and it’s not amazing but it’s _good_ and it makes Calum’s breath come faster when they break apart.

 

They don’t say anything for a long while, and the silence stretches in the dark - somehow quieter than before and tense, so tense, it almost hurts to break it but Calum breaks it, “Michael?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If we’re not married in fifteen years, will you marry me?”

 

Michael sits up again, doesn’t answer, just rummages around for a while and produces an old pizza receipt and a pen, and signs it with his scribbly signature that he’s been practicing “for when we’re famous, Cal!”

 

He still doesn’t say anything, just holds out the receipt and pen and smiles nervously. Calum smiles back, blindingly bright.

 

Kissing Michael felt like flying.

 

//

 

Calum is 25 and he’s forgotten what flying looks like.

 

He thought he loved her, he really did, but all he can ever think about when they’re together is how he doesn’t feel complete. They’ve got a kid on the way and Mali’s already picking out baby clothes, and Calum feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. It wasn’t so bad when he was 20, their career winding down as they got a bit older and a lot more mature, before eventually ending the band, with tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces as they promised that they would keep in touch.

 

They have. Keep in touch, that is. But Ashton’s got his clothing line and Luke’s got his solo career (they all knew he would be the only one to make it), and Michael’s got his fifty million projects because he’s Michael. And it’s nice, honestly, but it’s not the same. He misses them.

 

(He misses Michael.)

 

He and Abigail break it off only a couple months after the baby is born, little Joy gurgling her way into the world as Calum’s falls apart. He may not have been in love with Abigail those last few years, but he did love her and seeing her walk away was hard. More than hard, actually, because he never actually saw her, just woke up to an empty bed and the sound of Joy’s cries. There was a note on the counter that said “sorry” but didn’t promise anything, so it meant nothing to Calum. He called Luke and cried to him for an hour because he was too afraid to call Michael and not cry at all.

 

Luke calms him down, but it’s still not enough, and eventually he finds himself staring at the ceiling wondering if he’s supposed to be more upset. Mostly he just feels relieved. Scared, because he has a 7 month old baby tucked against his chest and he doesn’t know how to be anything but Just Calum, doesn’t know if he can be a father, but mostly relieved.

 

He lets out a breath through his nose and calls Michael, who picks up on the third ring.

 

“Mikey.” Calum pauses. “Mikey, do you remember our marriage pact?”

 

//

 

Calum is 30. He’s flown - in helicopters, planes, jets, any kind of machine that propels off the ground of its own accord.

 

It’s still nothing compared to the feeling he gets when Michael kisses him awake, their two daughters, Joy and Casey, bouncing at the foot of the bed as Michael smiles at him like they’re still 15.

 

Calum knows flying, but more importantly, he knows falling.


End file.
